


The Deliverance

by majimarkjin



Series: Hand and Glove [13]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: 3+1 fic, Clark Kent is Adorable, M/M, Protective Bruce Wayne, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majimarkjin/pseuds/majimarkjin
Summary: 3 times Bruce touches Clark and 1 time Clark touches Bruce back.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Hand and Glove [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001775
Comments: 6
Kudos: 131





	The Deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! So I've been thinking about this for a few days already. I love 3+1/5+1 fics so I thought I'd give it a try. This is the final product.
> 
> Happy reading!

**1\. Arm/Shoulder**

Clark was in a bad mood, Bruce noticed.

It was odd to see Superman scowling. Bruce had gotten used to the bright smiles and twinkling eyes. Still, he knew Clark was _no god_ , and even if the man was not biologically human, he had more humanity than most of the people Bruce had come to know.

Bruce was not sure what to do though, but he had to do something. The whole team was becoming more uncomfortable at the silence of the Kryptonian. He just realized how helpful Clark's bright personality was to the seamless dynamic of their team.

“Clark,” Bruce called out, waiting for Clark to acknowledge him. When Clark did, Bruce gestured the man to follow him. Together, they walked out of the center room and into the hallway. Bruce saw how the other members breathed a sigh of relief as they were leaving.

Usually, Clark would already be asking Bruce if something was wrong or something along those lines. However, Clark remained silent. He seemed to be alright with the silence that was slowly suffocating Bruce too.

“Clark,” Bruce started, but he was still unsure of what to say. Clark merely stared at him.

Sighing, Bruce spoke. “What's wrong?”

Upon the question, Clark's frown only deepened, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips puckered. Yet, “Nothing,” Clark said.

“Look–”

“Is that all?” Clark cut Bruce off.

Bruce pursed his lips. “No.”

“What is it, then?”

“You're brooding and being disrespectful.”

“Like you, then?” Clark raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly.” Bruce flashed him a sardonic smile. “So are you going to tell me what's wrong or do you want to know the lengths I'm willing to go through to know what's happening?”

Clark's face crumbled instantly. “Sorry. I–” he sighed and rubbed his face. “I just– well, you're gonna think it's silly.”

Bruce knitted his eyebrows. “Silly?”

“Yes.”

Bruce placed a hand on Clark's bare elbow to reassure him, but Clark seemed to tense up so Bruce moved his hand on Clark's covered shoulder instead.

“Clark, if it's bothering you then it's not silly, okay?” Bruce, though, felt silly when he said the word silly. Clark looked at Bruce, doe-eyed, and Bruce was suddenly the one tensing up. _Now, that was silly._

“It's one of the animal shelters in Metropolis,” Clark mumbled, looking down at his feet while fidgeting. “They don't have enough budget anymore so they have no choice but to put down the animals there.”

Bruce blinked. Clark was moody because of an _animal shelter?_

“Can you tell me why you're so affected by it?” Bruce asked in a careful tone, not wanting to upset the Kryptonian more.

Clark pouted. He actually _pouted_ and Bruce felt like he got whiplashed at the sight.

“Bruce, they're animals! Don't you believe they have the right to live too? And–” Clark's eyes started to water and his voice was wavering. “I saved many cats from top of the trees and brought them there. What if it's my fault they are about to die because I didn't bother searching for an animal shelter that was more financially stable? Or– or maybe I shouldn't have brought all of them there and– and brought them to different shelters instead? I– I just... I–”

“Clark,” Bruce cut off, tightening his hold on Clark's shoulder which seemed to get his attention. “Breathe.”

Clark swallowed and exhaled slowly. He blinked up at Bruce, the pout still there. Bruce could not stop the small smile that was threatening to show on his face.

_Clark was wrong._ It was not silly. It was an actual concern. Bruce never thought anything about that, but Clark, the embodiment of all nice and bright, did and was even devastated about it.

“Don't worry about it, okay?” Bruce said, about to remove his hand on Clark's shoulder when he saw the look of uncertainty on Clark's face. “Don't worry.” Bruce repeated and squeezed Clark's shoulder one last time before letting go.

Clark looked at Bruce for a moment, as if he was searching something in those dark eyes and seemed to see it when a smile slowly crept into his lips. He nodded. “Okay.”

A day after that, Clark Kent read the news about Wayne Foundation giving financial aid to all animal shelters in Gotham and her sister city, Metropolis.

When they saw each other again, Clark smiled brightly at Bruce. Bruce raised an eyebrow in return and took a sip of his coffee, hiding a smile behind the coffee cup.

* * *

**2\. Forehead**

Bruce had been knee-deep in an investigation that it took a whole month before he saw the league members again. Only then did he learn that Clark Kent was sick.

“What?” Bruce looked at Barry in incredulity, but it seemed more like a glare when Barry cowered a little.

Diana decided to save the poor kid from Bruce. “The Mogs, a small alien army, arrived and decided to place their spacecraft above the Indian Ocean and it released some sort of pollen in the air and into the ocean. It caused a disturbance to many water creatures so Arthur came over to ask them to leave–”

“But then Arthur was rude to them?” Bruce cut Diana off, smirking.

“At least not an asshole like you, Bats.” Arthur smirked back.

“So what happened that made Clark sick?” Bruce asked, getting back to the topic.

Victor snorted. “Arthur called in for help when the Mogs started attacking, but Clark was the only one available. They managed to make some kind of truce with them though and the Mogs left Earth peacefully.”

“What made Clark sick then?” Bruce was agitated when no one seemed to answer his question.

The three male superheroes looked at Diana expectantly which made the Amazon sigh.

“It seemed like Kryptonians have some sort allergic reaction to the pollen and Kal managed to inhale some when the spacecraft was leaving,” Diana said.

“So now we have one Kryptonian suffering from allergic rhinitis,” Barry added.

“Do we know what kind of pollen it is?” Bruce asked. “If Clark gets sick because of it then we–”

“Bruce,” Diana smiled at him. “Arthur got a hold of some and had it tested. It was blue Kryptonite turned into fine dust. That's why Kal got affected.”

“How–”

“The Mogs are space travellers and they use space scraps to fuel their engine. They seemed to be near the location of what used to be Krypton and found some shards. They didn't even know they got Superman affected,” Arthur explained, earning a glare from Bruce.

“Then–”

“We don't need to worry much since Krypton's galaxy is thousands of lightyears away from the Milkyway,” Victor said, but it just made Bruce's eyebrows knit.

“We cannot contain all the Kryptonite in the universe, but we can help Kal in protecting himself,” Diana said before Bruce could even say anything else.

Bruce huffed. It almost sounded like a laugh. The team seemed to know what he was about to say before he even say them. Shaking his head, Bruce stood up. “Call if you need my help.”

“Where are you going?” Barry asked, tilting his head while eating a slice of pizza.

“Emergency.” Was all Bruce said and he left them in the Hall of Justice. He made his way back to the lake house and asked Alfred to make a soup while he changed his outfit into a more comfortable one—a dark blue shirt that Dick gave him and a pair of black dress pants.

“Here, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, handing him a container. “Give Mister Kent my regards.”

Bruce was not even surprised that Alfred already knew of his plans. Nodding, Bruce got into his Obsidian 2015 Lexus LS460. “Thank you, Alfred. Tell Damian not to wait up for me. I'll contact Dick later.”

“Very well, sir,” Alfred said.

Bruce revved the engine and made his way to Metropolis in less than an hour. Finding a parking space around Clark's apartment was more difficult than he had expected and it took him about 15 minutes to finally find one. He eventually arrived in Clark's doorstep.

Not wanting to disturb Clark in case he was asleep, Bruce fished out a key from his pocket. Clark gave it to him a few days after his resurrection, when the man learned that Bruce was the one who kept on paying for the apartment while he was gone.

_“Well, it's kind of your home now too with the amount of money you paid for it while I was gone, so feel free to come by anytime,”_ Clark said back then.

Of course, Bruce would not suddenly just come whenever he wanted. He rarely even did, saved only when Clark got badly injured by Kryptonite and Bruce would scold _—fret over—_ him.

When Bruce entered the apartment, it was quiet. “Clark?”

He placed the container on the countertop and looked for Clark. Bruce found the Kryptonian on the bed, sniffing, and he snorted when he saw tissue papers scattered all over the floor.

Clark, who was lying on the bed, turned his head at the sound and his eyes widened upon seeing Bruce at the door.

“Bruce!”

“Clark.” Bruce looked at Clark in amusement, but then the Kryptonian sneezed.

Bruce sighed and walked closer to Clark. He sat on the edge of the bed and took a closer look at Clark. “How are you feeling?”

Clark groaned, a few stray of curls falling on his forehead. “Am I dying? I feel like dying.”

Bruce smiled softly at him. He could not help, but brush the curls away from Clark's face and in doing so, his fingers lightly grazed Clark's skin.

Clark looked at Bruce with his wide, innocent eyes, a blush creeping up to his face at the contact. Bruce was worried though when Clark began to turn red.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked and placed his palm on Clark's forehead to calculate his temperature. “You're heating up. I thought it was only rhinitis.”

“I'm fine!” Clark squeaked, turning a shade darker in embarrassment. “Just– uh... What– what are you doing here?”

Bruce adjusted the pillows under Clark to make sure the man was comfortable. “The team said you're sick so I decided to see for myself.”

“You didn't believe them?”

“I did,” Bruce said. “Do you want soup?”

Clark was flabbergasted at the quick change of topic, but nodded anyway. “Did you cook?”

Bruce huffed. “No. Alfred did.”

Clark smiled at Bruce. “Thanks, B.”

Bruce stared at Clark and caressed Clark's brow.

“Bruce?” Clark meekly said, but leaned on Bruce's hand.

“Oh, Clark.” Bruce hummed absentmindedly, a little dazed as he retracted his hand. “I'll be back.”

Clark nodded, knowing Bruce always would.

* * *

**3\. Waist**

“Why?” Clark asked, scrunching his nose at the idea.

“In simple terms, you suck at combat,” Bruce deadpanned, adjusting the wrappings around his knuckles.

The two found themselves at the training area of the Batcave. Bruce was propositioning Clark to train, but Clark looked uncertain about it, especially when he watched as Bruce was taking his shirt off, leaving the vigilante in training shorts.

“I do combat just fine!” Clark defended and then noticed the loudness of his voice so he toned it down. “I know how to punch.”

“No, you don't,” Bruce said and took an agile step towards Clark, throwing a punch towards Clark's way and almost hit Clark if the Kryptonian was a second too late from moving away. “You just swing your arm. That's different.”

Clark's gaped at Bruce, his eyes blinking rapidly. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Nothing,” Bruce said. “But you, on the other hand...”

“Okay, okay!” Clark surrendered. “I'll train with you. Just... Warn me next time before you throw a punch or something.”

Bruce walked until he was invading Clark's personal space. Clark tried to avoid Bruce's gaze, but when he looked down, Bruce's muscular body appeared in his line of sight, making him blush.

“Clark,” Bruce called, trying to get the Kryptonian's attention, but Clark was distracted.

_“_ _Kal.”_

Bruce's rough voice sent shiver down on Clark's spine. Clark bet Bruce did not even know how the name made him feel when it was uttered with the vigilante's husky voice.

“Yeah?” Clark asked, voice hoarse.

“Keep up.” Bruce threw another punch out of the blue and hit Clark square on the jaw, the pain shocking Clark for a moment as he stumbled.

“Your enemies won't warn you when they attack,” Bruce said with a smug smile.

Clark looked at him, wide-eyed. “How...”

Bruce pointed at the table near them where some scraps of metal were. “Placed a blue Kryptonite before you arrived.”

Clark's jaw dropped. He did not even notice his powers waning. “You...”

In fairness, Bruce gave Clark time to process what he did. Clark kept on staring at Bruce, deep in thought. And then, when Clark thought Bruce had lowered his defenses, he tried to throw a punch.

Keyword: _tried._

Bruce was fast in his feet, dodging Clark with precised agility. Clark almost fell forward if it was not for Bruce's arm that quickly wrapped around Clark's waist to catch him. Bruce pulled Clark up.

Leaning closer, Bruce's lips was almost touching Clark's ear. _“Careful, Kal-El.”_

Clark could feel himself heating up, but he swallowed down the embarrassment. _He would not let Bruce win._

* * *

**\+ Neck**

Feeling bolder, Clark took a step backward and pressed his solid back against Bruce's firm chest, feeling it rise and fall. Clark turned his face around and their noses accidentally bumped.

Clark looked at Bruce straight in the eyes. “Maybe you need to be a little _careless_.”

Bruce's arm tightened around Clark as he heard Clark's sotto voce, the tone leaving him a little breathless.

Clark raised his arm and placed his hand on Bruce's nape, thumbing the side of Bruce's neck as his eyes fell on Bruce's lips.

“Kal,” Bruce warned, eyes darkening.

“Yeah, Bruce.” Clark's eyes were bright, but his pupils were dilated. _“Kal's here.”_

That made Bruce's nose flare. With a low growl, Bruce claimed Clark's lips, forcibly pressing their bodies together.

The kiss was passionate and obscene at the same time. Their tongues were playing with each other, swirling around their mouths.

It was Clark's first time to kiss someone without his heightened senses, yet it was the most sensuous kiss he had ever took part in.

Bruce was meticulous—crazily so. It drove Clark mad and wanting more. Clark did not even notice he was making noises until Bruce broke their kiss, swearing under his breath.

“Kal. _Kal,”_ Bruce uttered like a prayer. “The sounds you make...”

Clark blushed, but leaned once again, licking Bruce's lips in self-indulgence. Bruce managed to catch it in his mouth and suck, eliciting a pornographic sound from Clark.

“Come on, Bruce.” Clark panted against Bruce's lips and began rubbing himself against Bruce, feeling Bruce's shaft hardening.

Bruce bit Clark's neck lightly and rested his head on his shoulder as he groaned. “Not here.”

Clark whined. He was so warm, so hot, he felt like he was about to burst. He wanted Bruce. Clark badly needed him.

Bruce turned Clark around and kissed him. “Come on,” he murmured. “Bedroom.”

“I– ah!” Clark squeaked when Bruce squeezed his rump. “Kryptonite.”

Bruce stopped, hands still on Clark's backside, and looked at Clark in confusion.

“Let's bring the Kryptonite,” Clark clarified, unexpectedly feeling shy. “I want to touch you like how you touch me, B.”

Bruce was in awe as he stared at Clark. Taking out the Kryptonite was a last minute decision. He wanted to know if Clark would notice it and even expected that Clark would get mad at him, yet neither happened. He did not expect Clark to be so bold and direct, yet there Clark was, telling Bruce exactly what he wanted.

Bruce kissed Clark again, but it was gentle— _so tender and affectionate_ , it made Clark's toes curl.

Bruce nodded as he pulled away, a thumb caressing Clark's cheek adoringly. “Anything you want, Kal.”

It was true; Bruce would willingly give anything for Clark, no matter how big or small, possible or impossible it may be. He knew Clark would do the same thing—Clark already did.

Clark revived Bruce Wayne's hope, and in extension, Batman's. Clark gave the Bat a reminder of his morality and how he fight for the defenseless and innocent, not add to the increasing number of evil in their world. Clark gave Bruce a reason to live again, to not just merely exist.

And so, Bruce touched Clark—his _Kal_ —with ardent hands and fervent lips. Every contact of their skin was a way of worshipping and every sound they make was an orison. Kal was not a god, no. But he was the answer to Bruce's prayers.

_Kal-El was Bruce Wayne's deliverance._

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine Bruce calling Clark "Kal" when he's being deeply affectionate. Cue: dreamy sighs.
> 
> Also, I don't know anything about cars and I like to think Bruce was being inconspicuous when he went to Clark's place, yet it still lowkey showed how rich he was with his choice of car.
> 
> Any feedback? Please leave them on the comment section.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
